


Like the Stars Chase the Sun

by runicmagitek



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mid-Canon, Nonbinary Character, Original Mythology, Romance, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 06:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: The numbers of the Nightwings grow small, as do the number of Rites remaining. To lift spirits, they exchange stories and the Reader shares a special one the night before a liberation Rite: the story of how the sun and the moon fell in love.





	Like the Stars Chase the Sun

An endless wind tore through the path carved into Mount Alodiel. Not a star glimmered above, the heavens thick with storm clouds. Still, the Nightwings advanced, certain of the way—thanks to their Reader. Even then, Xhri credited the drive-imps for traveling to the group’s destination.

The Blackwagon creaked and groaned up the slushy slopes. Xhri stretched, flexing and rubbing their hands together. Damn cold would get the best of them. It already had, in a way. Green eyes glanced over the wooden prosthetic replacing their right calf and foot. A phantom chill left them burrowing further into a heap of blankets.

 _It can_ _’t be that much further,_ Xhri mused.

The Blackwagon trembled to a halt, the structure of the vehicle sighing as it eased into the ground for rest. Xhri peeked out the window; a veil of snow blurred the entirety of the Downside. Somewhere past the blizzard awaited their next Rite. Another member selected, another liberated. Dread gnawed at their mind until it flooded their hollow heart.

The cry of drive-imps snapped them back to reality. Ti’zo squawked back at his kin, something about who dared to steal his leftover fish. Xhri chuckled; a vague recollection of Rhae tossing said fish out with the garbage surfaced to mind. Their lips were sealed when a blur of orange zipped by and landed in their lap.

“Kraah-haaaah,” Ti’zo sighed out.

“Awww, it’s okay, Ti’zo,” Xhri said, scritching the top of his head. “We’ll find some fish next time.”

His eyes drifted elsewhere. “Hraa-hoom….”

“There _will_ be a next time.” They scooped him up and poked his nose. “I promise.”

To that, Ti’zo fluffed up and bore a massive grin. “Skriii?!”

“But of course. Now go along and see what the others are up to. I’m sure Bertrude will need a hand with that stew.”

Ti’zo scrunched up his tiny face, flicking his tongue out in disgust.

“Hey now, don’t be rude.”

“Graa- _hooooom_.”

Their smile faded when Ti’zo fluttered off. The voices of the remaining Nightwings filtered in from the other end of the Blackwagon. Pamitha teased Ti’zo about eating his remaining fish while Rhae convinced Bertrude to accept her help with their supper. Sir Gilman profusely thanked the crone for preparing food for the group. Laughter strung through their voices as the scent of something savory, yet questionable permeated the interior.

And Xhri tilted their temple along the frozen glass of the window, eyes glued to the outside world.

Snowglobes once adorned the shelves of their home during their childhood. They loved shaking them no matter the season—anything to watch it snow. On a good day, it was the closest they came to those flakes. Aralys insisted on a bare minimum of five layers if Xhri ever wished to venture outside in the cold.

“ _But Mama!_ ” Xhri always whined, “ _none of the other kids wear this much. I can_ _’t even move my arms._ ”

“ _Xhri, my sweet, little chickadee,_ ” Aralys had said in a sing-song voice, “ _the others aren_ _’t as fragile as you. You need to stay safe. Mama would be awfully sad if she found out her little chickadee was stuck in the snow._ ”

No snowball fights. No snow-imps. No snow forts. None of it. Xhri viewed it all from a window, bundled up by the fire and wondered what life would be like without their body attempting to kill them. But at least there was Aralys and her books. A new chapter every night from the special library they swore to never discuss in public. Xhri escaped those nights, for in each story, they could be anything but themselves.

 _Did you ever get this far, Mama?_ Xhri pondered.

“Xhri! Oh, Xhri!”

Their breath hitched. Upon whipping their head around, Xhri met Rhae’s wide, curious eyes latched onto their own.

“The stew! I think the stew is almost done! Bertrude instructed me to fetch you, so here I am.” She cocked her head. “I… wasn’t interrupting, was I? No, I mustn’t do such a thing.”

“Not at all,” Xhri offered with a slight smile.

“That’s good! I wouldn’t want to be a nuisance.”

Xhri could never think ill of her. How could they? Not a bitter word or disgusted flinch overcame Rhae when in the presence of Xhri. _We_ _’re not too different, you and I,_ Xhri kept in their thoughts.

Rhae offered a hand while Xhri dug out of the mound of blankets—left hand in Rhae’s, right hand pawing for their cane.

“You’re freezing!” Rhae said as they walked together.

Xhri chuckled. “I always am. You know that.”

“Maybe some extra stew will warm you up!”

Their smile faltered. If only that was all it took.

In the main living quarters of the Blackwagon, a cauldron of simmering stew sat center of a ring of pillows. Bertrude slopped heaps of the mixture into polished, wooden bowls. A savory, earthy scent tickled their nostrils. It wasn’t Hedwyn’s cooking, but it was edible. Sometimes, edible _and_ safe was better than delicious.

The three who found them dying in the desert were long gone, liberated from their crimes and granted the freedom to return to the Commonwealth. Volfred followed them up the Shimmer-Pool in time; what was a revolution without a leader to guide the way? If it wasn’t for Rukey, Hedwyn, and Jodariel, though, Xhri would have been lunch for the howlers.

Not a day passed without fond thoughts bubbling forth of them. Maybe those three thought little of their Reader, but they served as the closest embodiment to friends Xhri ever experienced.

And the sentiment was shared to those who remained.

Food brought the Nightwings together along with idle chatter. Smiles adorned those faces, but Xhri lost reason to do so some time ago. Dark clouds might have blotted out the starry skies, but the truth still sprawled across the heavens.

“Ah, Xhri,” Bertrude droned out, a sly smirk upon her lips. “We remembered to cook the vegetables down.” She extended a bowl, brimming with mushrooms, root vegetables, and rice. “And less spicy than before. We promise.”

Releasing Rhae, they retrieved the bowl. “My stomach and I thank you.”

A rumbling sound flowed through Bertrude—perhaps akin to a chuckle. With dinner in hand, they scouted the pillows for a seat and plopped down. A black char covered most of the vegetables. Xhri sighed; better that than eating them raw.

They ate in quiet while the others carried out conversations. Pamitha praised Bertrude’s skills, as always. Rhae attempted to keep Ti’zo from burrowing into the bowl to lick it clean. Sir Gilman talked Xhri’s ear off, no different from the previous nights, but they didn’t tire of his rambling and he wasn’t offended by their silence.

It was when the bowls emptied that their tongues stilled and any semblance of joy faded. No one dared to mention it, but the question was etched in all their faces—who was next to be liberated? Everyone agreed Rukey, Hedwyn, and Jodariel were destined to leave together, or as close together as feasibly possible. Volfred was an obvious choice, but after that? How were they to decide?

 _It won_ _’t be me_ , Xhri thought as the awkward silence persisted. _It never was going to be, anyways._

Rhae spoke up first—she always did. She offered stories from the Scribes in the guise of blessings.

“They will see us through!” she spoke, beyond confident. “I know they will! I know!”

Her tales inspired others to weave their own experiences into the mix, ranging from Pamitha’s battle stories to Bertrude’s revolutionary acts. Maybe it was an attempt to showcase _why_ they were destined to go next. Maybe it was a simple method to pass time. Xhri listened and nothing more.

“What about you, Xhri?” Rhae asked, wild red eyes latched onto them.

“Ah, I see you’re still with us, dear Reader,” Pamitha teased. “You typically don’t stick around this long after dinner.”

 _Yeah, because dinner typically doesn_ _’t like_ me _a whole lot_. But the vegetables paired with plain rice served as one of the first meals since Hedwyn’s departure that left their digestive system compliant. Better to listen to nostalgia than presumably dying in a fetal position elsewhere.

“Remarkable!” Sir Gilman exclaimed. “Your resolve is awe-inspiring this evening!”

Xhri scoffed. “That’s not saying a whole lot about me, all things considered.”

His eye widened. “You think not?! Do not fret, for this knight believes in you and is proud!”

“Quiet, Gilman,” Bertrude hissed. “Thou makest sound as if we aim to concoct poison and not a meal.”

The wyrm cowered beside Xhri. “My apologies, dearest Bertrude!”

Poking out from his bowl, Ti’zo licked the last bits from his nose and flew to Xhri. “Scree-krr-hi?”

Xhri blinked. “You… want to me to tell a story like everyone else?”

“Kri-kiri!”

“Please, oh please, Xhri,” Rhae added, “we’d love to hear from you! Yes, we would!”

“After all,” Pamitha said, “we’re a team, no? We wouldn’t have come this far without a certain Reader to guide us.”

A story. Such a simple request from those who evolved into a family they never had. Or so they convinced themselves. Making friends back in the Commonwealth was difficult as it was, never mind now. Xhri sat there, simultaneously a stranger and peer to their small audience.

“I… I’m not sure what to tell,” Xhri began.

“Anything, of course,” Pamitha teased. “What do you think we’ve been doing?”

“No, it’s—” A sigh left Xhri as they shook their head. “All of you have endless experiences and a wealth of knowledge, but I….”

They gazed into their empty palms. They remembered hours spent curled up by the window, coughing and succumbing to fatigue and malaise while other children played—fearless and energetic. They remembered grand plans for an adventure, which consisted of a simple errand to the marketplace, postponed due to a flare-up. They remembered endless tears when Aralys said the sugar-coated fried dough from a street vendor would hurt their tummy.

_All I wanted was a normal life. I_ _’ll never have that and yet all of you are retelling day-to-day activities that I only read of in books._

Xhri’s eyes lit up. Of course. Why hadn’t they thought of it sooner?

“My life was mundane,” they began. “I empathized more with caged birds than kids my age. Still, I found joy in the smaller aspects of life.” A slight smile brightened their lips. “Mama… she used to read to me—”

“A Reader?!” Sir Gilman interrupted

Even Rhae gasped. “Like yourself!”

The amazement from the group left Xhri puffing out their chest. Before they could speak, they were groomed to secrecy for that notion. The truth no longer needed to be swallowed back; it could gush forth without a thread of paranoia.

“Indeed she was,” Xhri continued. “It was the two of us when I was growing up. She had a private library in the attic.”

Ti’zo cocked his head. “Hree-hraa-hoom?”

“It’s where we kept all the books,” Xhri said.

“You had more than one?” Rhae asked, mouth ajar as she leaned in further.

“Quite a lot, truth be told. I can’t remember how many, but every wall was covered with books.”

Another round of gasps passed over the group, all of them hanging onto every word which left Xhri’s lips.

“I used to hide up in there when I was lonely.” _More often than I_ _’d like to admit._ “Every night, Mama would retrieve a book and read it to me before bedtime.” The memory washed over them like a cool breeze on a summer’s night. “I loved all of them, more than words can express. It was all I had when it came to… well, anything. I visited fantastical worlds, experienced epic adventures, and adored heroic characters. Others had friends and careers and dreams—I had my stories.

“And I tried desperately to memorize them. Mama always told me I couldn’t take more than one book from the library and to never leave it out in plain sight. Thus I burned the words into my head in hopes I could recall any of them whenever I wanted.”

“And which story, dear Reader,” Bertrude asked, the corners of her lips curling up, “is thine favorite?”

“Oh, what a delightful thought!” Pamitha waved a feathered limb towards her friend. “Perhaps you can tell us one of these stories, Xhri.”

“Yes, a story!” Rhae agreed. “A story! One of your favorite stories! Could you tell us one?”

“A bedtime story before we retire for the night!” Sir Gilman chimed in.

Ti’zo bounced into Xhri’s lap and flashed a grin. “Krahiri-kriii!”

That giddy eagerness was familiar. Before frustrations morphed into resentment and then a defeated melancholy, there was _that_ exact emotion within Xhri. They almost forgot the adrenaline behind awaiting a new story woven from smooth words.

“My favorite?” They tapped a finger along their jaw. “What do you all know of the Song of Stars?” No one answered and the silence widened Xhri’s lips. “Then gather around, for this is a tale of love written within the stars above.”

Rhae plopped immediately in front of Xhri with Sir Gilman not far behind. Pamitha nestled in behind the two. As for Bertrude, the crone gathered the empty bowls with a knowing smirk on her lips, joining the curious group upon stacking the dishes off to the side.

Their heart skipped several beats. _I_ _’ve never had an audience before. Not like this._ Inhaling deep, Xhri began.

“Before there were Rites,” Xhri spoke, channeling Aralys’ whimsical storytelling tone, “before there was even the Commonwealth or books of any sort, there were the stars. Not like the gleaming diamonds we know today. Eons ago, there were shadows meandering about the nothingness of the universe. No purpose, no life. One by one, these shadows shed their inky cloaks to reveal a luminescent sheen. A tune echoed from an unknown origin and the melody stirred in the hearts of these entities. The shadows loved the sound and glowed to display their awe.

“And soon they lit up the heavens, glimmering in hopes to find that ethereal melody once more. Silence hung amongst the stars and as time passed, they learned to make their own music. Some chimed, some hummed, some pulsed, but it was all the same—all from the heart. Before words, there was music—a language everyone understood from the depths of their soul.”

“Oh, I like music!” Rhae cooed, her face melting in the palms which held up her smiling face.

“Shhh, quiet dear,” Pamitha said, though with not a drop of poison on that quick tongue of hers. “Let Xhri continue their story.”

Xhri chuckled and picked up where they left off. “Even though the stars conducted a glorious symphony, it didn’t match the sublime quality of that initial melody which inspired them. Some forgot the surreal sound, writing it off as a figment of their imagination. Thus they played without a second thought as to why they began in the first place.

“The only influence which silenced their harmony was a burning wave of light which recently snuffed stars from the heavens. They fled to the last sliver of darkness behind the horizon, huddled together to stay cool, and withheld the desire to play, in fear the light would find them and kill them.”

All eyes widened before Xhri. Rhae and Ti’zo alike dropped their jaws.

“But there was one star who was unlike the other stars. He had yet to compose a melody, for nothing resonated in his soul. The others ignored him amongst their orchestrations and they even left him behind when they scurried to the horizon.”

“Oh no,” Rhae whispered into her hands.

Sir Gilman rubbed her back with his tail, despite trembling himself. “It is alright, young Rhae. That little star will be fine!”

“He shuffled along the skies, nowhere near the horizon,” Xhri said with a wink, “and when he did near his destination, he was blinded by a flash of light. Instead of burning up into stardust, he stood before the phenomenon and marveled at what he had never witnessed before.

“The blackened heavens crumbled and illuminated to a brilliant, blue hue. An array of colors flooded the vicinity and with it sprouted life. Lush forests and rippling oceans unfolded beneath him, each carrying its own unique lifeforms.

“Of all those wonders, he stared at the opposite end of the horizon and found something which warmed his soul.

“A woman floated there, basking in the fiery light. Her hair flowed with the wind, marked with the finest gold and eyes to match. Freckles, blush, and a blue gown covered her fair skin. She was beautiful, unlike any star he had met before.

“And then she danced and hummed and he could never look away.

“Alas, it was the same song which first resonated within the stars, the song which coaxed them to shed their shadowy veils and live brightly. For years, others had traveled the depths of the darkness to unearth this beautiful melody… and in turn, the stars ran away in fear of burning to ash.

“But he didn’t burn up. The spark she ignited inside of him was pure and true. For so long he stayed mute and now he wished for nothing more than to _play_.

“He mimicked her dancing and melody in hopes to gain her attention, but his efforts were not noticed. His peers hissed from beneath the horizon and begged for him to hide. Albeit reluctant, he complied and slipped back into the darkness, her song fading to echoes until there was nothing.

“When the light vanished from the heavens, the stars emerged. The one brave soul who dared to glimpse into the blazing light was full of a radiance which the stars had never known before. He danced and played the song meant for his now beloved maiden; none rivaled his passionate and complex melodies but the one he crafted them for.

“His attempts to convince the others of his discovery were met with bitter amusement. The stars deemed him a dreamer at best and a fool at worst. Surely the light blinded him with hallucinations of his own accord.”

Were those… tears in Rhae’s eyes? Or was the candlelight reflecting off of her intrigued eyes from a peculiar angle? Even Ti’zo’s tiny mouth trembled and Pamitha’s perpetual smirk vanished as the tale unraveled.

“But,” Xhri said, leaning in closer, “he didn’t care. He was a stubborn star and when the others raced for the horizon, he lingered to play his song. Again he caught a glimpse of the magnificent lady, again she didn’t notice. Day in and day out, he poured his heart into his creations—all for her. A sliver-white light began to engulf him until he glowed brighter than all the stars combined, illuminating the heavens amidst the darkness similar to how his fiery woman blazed to life.

“Even then, it wasn’t enough to gain her attention. His tremendous luminescence faded each instance she crept over the opposite horizon. Years passed by and he had yet to cease his song and admiration.

“Until one day… something happened to quiet every last star.”

The Nightwings held their breath in unison, or so it seemed from Xhri’s vantage point. They bit back a smirk; this was always their favorite part of the story.

“Floating through the black heavens was the fiery woman herself. Her usual tune had shifted to a minor scale, reflected in her saddened eyes. She scouted through the stars until she found the brightest of them all.

“They stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. The ripples of sound emanating from her were akin to the finest harp. It was a curious ballad, one of how she found a morning star upon waking at dawn. She longed to gaze at the stars, but they never decorated the skies when she was awake. And then there it was, a small speck twinkling opposite of her. She danced and played for the wonder she discovered, only to be saddened when it vanished beneath the horizon.

“But the wind carried a tune, making the trees and ocean dance until it reached her and bestowed echoes from the morning star. She sought out this star in hopes to share her admiration for his beautiful work.

“In return, he played the song which the wind carried to confirm who he was. And she grinned and played beside him. The two crafted a magnificent duet, lost in each other’s passion and demonstrated no sign of ever stopping.

“The longer she stayed in the realm of darkness, the more the other stars burned out from the intense, crimson light they produced together. Not wishing to harm his peers, she bid farewell and drifted away. His last notes played for her carried hope and a promise—one day he’d track her down and they would reunite.”

“Did he?” Rhae asked. Ti’zo chirped with the same question, as well.

Xhri smiled. “He spent months, if not years searching for her. He knew the wind carried his melodies at dawn, thus he followed the elusive breeze. He maneuvered through the darkness and inched closer until the day came where she rose from her slumber and he was there to greet her.

“They rejoiced in song and dance, nothing but love radiating from their reunion. They no longer burned the shadows with that red light. However, the longer he stayed, the longer the world beneath them plummeted into blackness and lost the essence of life.”

Rhae’s shoulders slumped while Sir Gilman pouted. Pamitha consoled them with a feathery embrace. Despite her stoic expression, Bertrude held onto every word with an intent gaze locked onto Xhri’s. With a quick glance down, they found tears swelling in Ti’zo’s eyes. Xhri stroked him as he whimpered, then continued.

“Neither wished to destroy what was essential to the other. But what was life without their kindred soul? Those around them took note of their sorrow and thus contemplated together to resolve the issue.

“The stars hummed with new melodies and glimmered bright enough to guide those lost in the shadows. The flourish of life below played the songs exchanged between the fiery maiden and her lover. With the support from the exchange of melodies, she dared to meet him again.

“When she did, the life beneath them celebrated. She made her visit brief, however, to ensure all the stars didn’t burn out from her presence; others depended now on those very stars to light the path home and tell new stories from their distant songs. He, too, dared to cross the azure skies to find her and reciprocate the gesture. Once more, everyone around them rejoiced, despite the short-lived reunion.

“They continued to do so forever, rising and falling alone in hopes to search for their loved one and share new songs. But fear not! Their heartache pales in comparison to their rare reunion, for no one’s love will ever burn as bright and pure as the two star-crossed lovers. Those brief instances together outweigh an eternity in solitude.

“And the songs played of them… they became some of the first stories ever told. As more complex lifeforms developed and civilizations emerged, people accompanied verbal lyrics to these songs to pass down each generation. Some speculate this story has a thousand different versions, the variations marked by a plethora of cultures and creative points of view. Regardless, they all hold the same tale: of how the sun and moon fell for one another.”

Nothing but the wintry breeze thrumming through the walls lived in the Blackwagon. To their surprise, Xhri was met with applause and bittersweet expressions.

“What a fabulous tale!” Pamitha said. “Well done, my dear!”

“Marvelous, indeed!” Sir Gilman agreed.

Bertrude grinned, perhaps a first for her. “We certainly enjoyed it.”

“Scra-haah-haaaaah!”

Rhae dried her eyes, yet continued to smile. “I loved it! Loved it! Yes, I loved it so much. Oh, it twisted my heart up, but it was unlike anything I have ever heard before!” She sniffled and met Xhri’s stare. “I wish the sun and moon could have stayed together forever.”

“That,” Bertrude said, slithering over to the heart-broken child to bestow her with a handkerchief, “would cause more of a ruckus than is necessary, child.”

“I know, I know.” She dried her eyes and elaborated. “But they loved one another so! And the lengths they went to be together, even for a moment….” She clutched the handkerchief to her chest. “I hope they’re still okay! I truly do!”

Xhri smirked slightly. “You’ll be happy to know that every eclipse is a symbol of them crossing paths yet again and that they’re together within that phenomenon.”

“Then I wish the next eclipse to be soon! They must be together. They must!”

Bertrude laid a hand upon her narrow shoulders. “We once heard that each eclipse brought shooting stars soon after. When they crashed into the raw earth, new life sprung forth.”

Xhri tilted their head. “The moon-touched and sun-touched folk.”

“So thou hast heard of the tale?”

“Hard not to when you’ve heard of the Song of Stars. People say the moon-touched and sun-touched spawned from every eclipse… but that was ages ago and their kind are few and far between. It’s been decades since there’s been record of any sun-touched folk. However—” Their green eyes softened onto Rhae. “—there are still moon-touched folk who continue to exude the ideal qualities of the moon himself.”

A fire sparked to life in Rhae’s eyes, pulsing through her face and entire body until she bounced with excitement.

“Is it true?!” she asked. “Is that where moon-touched folk are from?!”

“That is what the legends say,” Xhri said.

Rhae squealed. “I am the product of an eclipse, of the sun and moon’s beautiful love! I am proof of that!”

She rambled about her discovery and the others beamed. Such a tragic story seldom brought forth such a level of excitement, but Xhri withheld their tongue; better to bask in what was once considered a sacred gift than to be reminded of what modern civilization did to those favored by the sun and moon.

The remaining Nightwings thanked Xhri profusely for their storytelling. Rhae begged for another one while Pamitha laughed and ushered her off to prepare for bed. Sir Gilman and Bertrude lagged behind, caught up in a conversation of cultural myths their kin had produced over the ages. Ti’zo wiggled in Xhri’s lap before taking flight to nuzzle their face.

“Kri-haaahk!”

“Not a problem,” Xhri murmured. “Go get comfy. I’ll be there in a bit.”

The chatter died out, as did the flames illuminating the interior. Xhri had yet to stir from their spot during supper. Much like Rhae, stories inspired wonder in their heart to the point of insomnia. Why retreat to bed when one could relive those fantasies in daydreams?

Lolling their head, Xhri peeked out a nearby window. Still snowing. With more effort than necessary, they wobbled onto their feet, collected some spare blankets, and shuffled outside.

The blizzard calmed to a silent snowfall. The snow crunched beneath Xhri’s feet while individual flakes caught in their coarse, terracotta curls. They stared in awe of the night; hopefully, the stars continued to shimmer behind the thick clouds. For now, snow replaced the stars, dancing in the air before settling into the ground.

For years, they witnessed it behind glass. Aralys had her warnings and rightfully so, but what was there to live for in the Downside? Whatever pleasantries any of them could bask in for the moment were welcomed. What else was Xhri to do? Hide out of fear? Out of despair?

Out of habit?

Xhri frowned and plopped into the snow, leaning back into the Blackwagon. Nostalgia moistened their eyes.

 _I miss you so much, Mama._ Despite the lack of wind, the chill in the air brought forth a violent shudder throughout Xhri. _I wish you were here to tell one of your stories. Anything to hear your voice again._

“The evening is quite remarkable, isn’t it?”

That voice almost slipped past Xhri, as quiet as the snow drifting by. Their eyes darted up to find none other than Tariq. He too gazed to the skies, hand extended to catch the fallen flakes. All the while, he clung to his lute with his opposite hand, no different from how Xhri clutched their cane.

He blinked and flicked his golden eyes to them. “My apologies, Reader.” He bowed, polite as ever. “It was not my intention to interrupt whatever solace you have found here.”

Xhri shook their head, desperate to dry their eyes. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Then would it suffice if I stayed a while?”

So kind, so thoughtful. Why weren’t more people like him? “Of course.”

He tipped his head in their direction. “You have my gratitude.”

Tariq approached them, almost as if he glided across the snow than walked. With his back against the Blackwagon, he towered over Xhri. They shared the silence and wonder, much to Xhri’s relief.

A violent chill overcame Xhri. Their hands trembled within a purplish complexion, one Aralys always warned them of.

“Allow me.”

Before Xhri could protest, a heavy cloak swept around them. They blinked and released a breath; the warmth warded off the bitter cold.

“But… aren’t _you_ freezing?” Xhri asked.

Tariq shook his head. “Not once has the winter air bothered me. I don the cloak more as a reminder, a touch of nostalgia, if you will.”

“Of what?”

His eyes skimmed upward. “Of stubborn memories I refuse to relinquish.”

Xhri chuckled. “Don’t I know that….” After a moment, they added, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. For what it’s worth, my thanks should be given to _you_.”

“I, uh….” The cloak hid the twitch of nervous hands running over one another, though their hesitation did no favors. “For what?”

“For your gift of narration.”

A beat passed before Xhri pieced the meaning of his compliment together. Tariq was always absent come supper time, claiming he could fend for himself and didn’t wish to intrude on the Nightwings. Before he returned to the Commonwealth, Rukey used to speculate that Tariq satisfied his hunger by other means, ones Xhri was more familiar with in macabre stories. Regardless, his absence was nothing out of the ordinary; his lingering to revel in their story, however, was new.

“You… you listened to that?”

“But of course. It’s not often I come across a skilled storyteller, let alone one who retells a tale I convinced myself long ago was forgotten.”

Xhri gasped and perked up. Before they pounced Tariq for more information, the minstrel himself posed a question.

“Where did you hear that story?” His golden eyes peered down as soft as his voice.

Whatever excitement that burst to life in their eyes died out. Xhri nestled deeper into the cloak, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Mama,” they murmured.

“Who was also a Reader, I gather?” He continued once Xhri nodded. “I never thought the story was written down.”

“It never was.” Inhaling deep, Xhri caught his gaze. “She told it to me no different from how I told it tonight. It was one of the few she said that was never properly recorded. One of the first stories ever, I guess. According to her, anyways. I made sure to memorize it as best as I could. Not only because it was my favorite, but….”

“She taught you well, Xhri, and should I ever have the opportunity to meet her, I will—”

“She was exiled when I seventeen, if not younger.” _Fuck if I remember._

The dense silence was almost tangible. Everything froze around Xhri, from the snowflakes to their throbbing heart.

“Fifteen years later, I was exiled for the same reason she was: reading and possessing written materials.” Xhri coughed up a laugh. “Like mother, like child, right? Except… I don’t think she survived down here. No one is even remotely familiar with her name. For all I know, she could have… she could have….”

Tears slid down their cheeks. Every heartwarming memory flooded Xhri from Aralys reading them books before bedtime to reminding them day in and day out that they meant the world to her.

 _It should_ _’ve been me,_ Xhri kept in their throat. _I was always the sickly one, always a burden to you. You deserved to live. You deserved better._

A hand rested upon their shoulder, sinking like a weight even through the cloak. After several sniffles, Xhri peeked up and found Tariq kneeling before them.

“My apologies,” he said, “I didn’t wish to stir up old sentiments. My intention was to extend my gratitude to both you _and_ her for being excellent storytellers. It’s been some time since I’ve heard the Song of Stars, as you call it. Your eloquent words weaving the tale warmed my heart. I cannot thank you enough for sharing a fond memory and in turn, my thanks are also in your mother for passing on the tale for you to one day recite. She should be proud of you. I know I am—of both of you.”

Despite the tears trickling past their eyes, Xhri steadied their voice. “I doubt I told it as well as she had.” They chuckled. “She had a way of bringing every aspect to life. You never needed imagery to describe the scenes; she painted them well enough on her own.”

“You did well, Xhri.” Tariq squeezed their shoulder. “Might I… suggest a change, though? Or perhaps an addition, if you’d like?”

They furrowed their brow. “Was something wrong?”

“Far from it,” he reassured. “The last I had heard the tale unfold, it was in the form of a song. A lifetime ago, perhaps, but the lyrics ring true to me still, particularly of the unveiling of the fiery maiden’s appearance.”

“You—” Xhri’s eyes widened. Aralys always said the Song of Stars was initially just that—a song. But the notes and lyrics were lost over centuries until all that remained were oral recollections. “You have _heard_ the Song of Stars?”

Tariq nodded with a hum, lifting his hand from their shoulder to tune his lute. “I know it far too well.”

He strummed several times and adjusted the strings accordingly. Tears vanished from Xhri’s eyes as they fixed upon Tariq and awaited his melody.

The opening notes were gentle, reminiscent of the snow. Each plucked string vibrated and carried a rich sound to echo through the mountain range. Tariq established a vivace melody in A minor, closed his eyes, and sang:

 

_The morning star gazed eastern bound_

_And found his maiden fair_

_Of wisps of clouds and raven crowned_

_And skin none could compare_

 

_O vanished the night sky_

_Brought by the moonlight_

 

_His eyes gleamed bright of dawn_ _’s delight_

_And hers of twilight_ _’s might_

 

_O gold as the sunrise_

_Blue as the blurred skies_

 

_Before he bid his muse adieu_

_He struck a chord anew:_

 

‘ _I wait in darkened heavens_

_Waiting for a warmth so bold_

_I wait past a chorus of night_ _’s essence_

_Waiting in a glow so cold_ _’_

 

Tariq strummed away, peering through heavy lids. “Her soul captured the most radiant light, but she was no pale, golden woman.”

“I had no clue,” Xhri murmured, still enraptured by the song itself.

“Nor do I blame you for your ignorance—but a minor detail in your impeccable retelling. It brings me utmost delight to play this for you.”

“And I’ll be sure to amend my version of the story.” They fidgeted. “Um… would it… be too much to ask you to play the entire song?”

He tilted his head. “I would hate to deprive you of needed rest, let alone keep you in the cold. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“I’m not tired yet.”

A crack of a smile flashed across Tariq’s lips. He bowed gravely. “Very well. As you wish, Reader.”

The only sentiment which rivaled the pulsing joy in Xhri’s heart was the excitement they experienced as a child, begging Aralys to tell one last bedtime story, one last tale to promise warm dreams.

 

* * *

 

“Xhri, look! Look!”

Stirring from their pile of blankets, Xhri stood and approached Rhae. She bounced by a window and wore a massive grin.

“Look there!” she said, pointing upward.

Past the massive structures made in the likeliness of the Scribes was a brilliant, lunar eclipse outshining every star in the sky.

“It’s like in your story!” Rhae clung to their arm. “The sun and moon are meeting now! Oh, this is wonderful. So wonderful! I’m glad to know they are together for now.”

Xhri exhaled and smiled. “As am I.”

The Blackwagon hissed and groaned to a halt. The drive-imps’ chirps sounded more like grumbles as they skittered off in search for supper. Ti’zo swooped down and dove into Rhae’s hair.

“Skra-kri!” he chirped before poking his head out.

“Mmm, we best get prepared.” Rhae squeezed Xhri. “We’ll see you at the gate!”

Once alone, Xhri struggled to maintain that smile. The longer they pursued the Rites, the less bearable their fate amongst it all became. But Xhri stilled their tongue as the Nightwings donned their raiments for a Rite more prized than the previous ones; with a bit of luck, one of them would return to the Commonwealth.

Slinging their ragged cloak over their form, Xhri made their way out the Blackwagon with the rest of the group. They lagged behind per usual, occasionally accompanied by Ti’zo, who flew around to assure the Nightwings’ Reader didn’t collapse.

He found a perch on their shoulder. “Kooo-hoooo.”

Xhri blinked. “What? _You_? Nervous?”

“Scraaah!”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just… you’ve been quite fearless, Ti’zo. Remember that time you told off Lendel?”

Ti’zo scrunched up his face and bore his fangs. “Nrrggggghh!”

“Well, channel that adrenaline and I’m sure you’ll do great.”

An audible sigh left the drive-imp. “Krrr-rriii… hreee-ho-kikiki.” He lowered his gaze and scooted closer. “Hrrooo-krrooo.”

“Aww, Ti’zo.” Xhri paused to give him a quick scritch on top of his head. “I’d miss you, too, if you left. But just think—Volfred is on the other side. So is Hedwyn, who I’m sure would cook you up some yummy fish for you—”

“Graaawwk-hree- _hee_!”

“I know you do! And Jodariel and Rukey would be there for you, too. You wouldn’t be alone.”

His bright smile faded as his eyes twitched. “Kroohoom?”

Inhaling deep, Xhri found the strength to answer. “I’ll be okay. I promise. Even if all of you go and I’m stuck here forever, it’ll be alright.”

Before Ti’zo could interject, a light from above washed over them. Xhri caught up with the others and cast their gaze heavensward, blocking out the rays with a free hand. Celeste had yet to stray from her spot aloft the Scribesgate. Such an ominous beauty carrying out the will of the Scribes.

She allowed each one access. Xhri crossed last, pausing to look back to the Gate Guardian herself. Tariq accompanied her, like always. He would return after the Rites. Though in that moment, Xhri noticed a million subtleties they failed to recognize before.

It was in the way Tariq bowed before Celeste, the way her shoulders slid away from her neck, the way their eyes—his gold and hers blue—regarded one another, the way he extended a hand to her, the way she eased into him.

The way they played music together as if, even for a moment, they were one.


End file.
